A Night at the Movies
by Generalissimo
Summary: What happens when Harm and Mac get together to watch a few movies for the weekend and neither of them have slept in days? Eighth chapter added. Another movie soon to come.
1. Overture

A Night at the Movies

Summary: What happens when Harm and Mac get together to watch a few movies for the weekend and neither of them have been sleeping?

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or any of the movies that I will be mentioning in the course of this series.

Mac's apartment

Georgetown, DC

1930 hrs local

Friday

Harm was dead tired. It had been a long day at JAG. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? It had been a long week at JAG. There had been a recent backlog of cases at the office, since Monday. Since that time, Harm had been hard at work. Since the backlog affected everyone at the office, he had no one to pass the excess cases to. Even the Admiral had started to handle a few personally to take the pressure off of his staff. Since the week had started, Harm had almost constantly been in court. When he wasn't in court, he was usually in his office, preparing for the next case. He had put in more of time than he had in months. In fact, he hadn't been to his apartment since Thursday morning.

Finally, at the end of the week, the Admiral declared that the system was back to normal working order. This announcement was met with a chorus of cheers, from every member of the staff, which could be heard echoing through the corridors connecting to the bullpen. After waving his hands to get a semblance of order back to the office, Chegwidden announced that everybody had the weekend off and he didn't want to see a single member of staff until Monday. Light-hearted chuckling erupted in the office, even though everyone in the office knew the Admiral well enough to know that he had meant the comment seriously.

Harm had breathed a sigh of relief, and returned to his office, intent on going home and sleeping clear till Monday. That was until Mac showed up at his door.

"Hey Sailor." She greeted him.

Harm looked up from his open briefcase. "Oh, hey Mac. What can I do for you?"

Mac stepped through the open door. "Well I was thinking, since this whole craziness has started, we haven't had chance to see each other much outside of the courtroom, and even less outside the office.

Harm nodded in mute agreement. "So what did you have in mind?" He asked.

Mac shrugged, "Well I was thinking that we could do with some relaxing, maybe you could come around to my apartment around 2000 and we could watch a few movies. You know, just relax."

Harm sighed. Honestly there was nothing he would rather do than spend some time with her, but at the moment his body was screaming at him that if he didn't rest soon, he would simply collapse right there on the office floor.

"Gee, Mac, I'd like to, but the thing is…"

Mac's shoulders dropped slightly. "No, I understand if you've got something planned." She started.

Harm looked at her and saw the hint of loneliness, which emanated from the depths of her brown eyes. She seemed to change right before his eyes. Her shoulders went from being square and upright to slumped and loose in disappointment. Her usually bright smile faded and she began to clasp at her hands in front of her like she did when she was in a slightly uncomfortable situation.

'She must be just as tired as me.' He thought, 'Otherwise, she'd never let that much of herself show."

Damn it. There was no way he could resist her when she looked like that. When the tough-as-nails façade came completely down. When LT COL. 'Mac' Mackenzie, Marine disappeared and all that remained was Sarah Mackenzie, woman, in all her fragile and beautiful glory.

"No, Mac, I don't have any plans. I'd love to stop by."

Mac smiled, "Great, I'll see you at 2000."

So here he was standing outside her apartment, getting ready to knock at the door, when all he really wanted to was collapse against it and slip into unconsciousness. Wearily, Harm raised his fist and rapped lightly against the door.

"Just a minute." Mac called from the other side. After what seemed like an eternity to Harm's fatigued mind, but in reality had only been a few seconds, Mac opened the door, wearing a robe, with a towel wrapped around her head.

Harm chuckled, self-consciously at his partner's state of dress.

'Or undress!' Something deep in the back of Harm's mind remarked gleefully.

He allowed himself one unobtrusive glance. At least he hoped it was unobtrusive, he was really to too tired to know what was and what wasn't obtrusive any more.

"I guess I'm early for a change." He remarked.

Mac, slightly embarrassed herself, laughed and let him in.

"Go ahead and sit down. I'll just be minute." She told him as she headed for her bedroom.

Harm obeyed, heading for the couch, which was beckoning for him to sit down, lie down…sleep on.

Harm sat down and shut his eyes. The peaceful waves of sleep began to pass over him, but he shook himself awake. It wouldn't be very polite to fall asleep in his friend's apartment two minutes after their night in began.

In a few minutes Mac was back, wearing a pair of sweats with a marine t-shirt, and carrying a stack of DVDs.

Harm looked at the rather large pile in her hand.

"I didn't think this would be an all-nighter." He said.

Mac shrugged, "I figured that a long session of vegging out was in order after this week." She replied, setting the DVDs down on the coffee table.

Harm sat up.

'I hope I have the energy to make it through even one movie.' He thought.

He scanned the titles. Oh great. Most of them were chick flicks. It figured. Now he knew he wouldn't make it through even one.

"Uh…Mac?" He asked.

She looked at him.

"Why is Meg Ryan in most of these?"

Mac frowned

"You mocking my taste in movies, flyboy?" She asked, with a teasing tone.

Harm laughed, "No, just noticing a pattern."

He changed the subject, "Which one first?" He asked.

Mac picked up the stack and looked it over, "Hmm…How about Casablanca? It's got romance, singing and even a little suspense for you." She joked.

Harm shrugged. He didn't really care, which movie they watched, he just hoped that he could sit through it without falling asleep, or failing that without snoring too loudly.

Mac put the disc in the machine and sat next to Harm, on the couch. The opening credits began to roll and that was all that Harm saw before his body finally gave up and he fell asleep.

To be continued...


	2. First Feature: Casablanca Ch1

**Part: 1 Casablanca**

**Ch. 1 The Arrest**

Harm sat at the back of a smoky bar. Piano music could be heard coming from the stage directly ahead. Had this not been a dream, Harm might have asked himself 'Where am I? How did I get here? Why am I in a tux and why is everything in black and white?'

Of course, none of this was on Harm's subconscious mind, as he sat at his lonely table.

The party was in full swing at Harm's Seahawk Club. Everybody who was anybody in Casablanca came to the Seahawk. Want good music? Come to Harm's. Want some companionship? Come to Harm's. Want some cheap booze, expensive booze, gambling, anything? Come to Harm's.

Harm took a sip of his bourbon and surveyed the crowd. Like they said, anybody who was anybody came to the Seahawk. The tables, bar, casino and dance floor were filled with every type of person. Merchants, policemen, actors, socialites, German army officers and spies all came through here.

Speaking of spies, Harm sat up in his chair and took notice of Inspector Clayton Webb of the Free-French police, walking through the door and heading towards the bar. Harm sighed, removing his still smoldering cigar from the table's ashtray as he got up and headed towards Webb.

Harm reached the bar as soon as Webb sat down.

"What are you having?" Harm asked nonchalantly.

Webb stiffened slightly in his seat. "What have you got to offer?" Webb asked as Harm sat down next to him.

Harm shrugged, puffing on his cigar. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On who I'm pouring this drink for. If it's just you then I've got plenty to offer, but if I'm pouring for a drink for the French Resistance, Allied Intelligence or the Gestapo or anybody else on your list of employers, then I'll have to ask you to leave."

Webb snorted. "Suppose I told you that I'm working for myself and that I just wanted a drink?"

Harm rolled his eyes, "Oh come off it Webb, we both know that you've always got something going on the side and that your loyalties change based on whoever has the best going rate. Not to mention the fact that you haven't been in here for 'just wanting a drink' since the Nazis came into to town."

Webb laughed reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case, "You make me sound so mercenary."

Harm smiled, but only slightly, "That's because you are."

Webb lit the cigarette and turned to face Harm. "That being said, I need a favour."

"Oh, boy. Here it comes." Harm remarked snidely.

Webb ignored him. "You've no doubt heard about the two German couriers who were found dead on the highway, the other day?"

"Yes. They got a lucky break. Alive they were, but ordinary clerks and now they're honoured war dead." He chuckled darkly.

"Awfully cynical aren't you?"

"It's always served me before."

Webb continued, "The two clerks were carrying with them, a set of exit visas from Assyut to be sent to Lisbon. When the bodies were discovered, the visas were gone."

"What has that got to do with me?" Harm asked, clearly uninterested.

"In response to the murders, German high command has sent someone down to straighten things out. A Major Chegwidden. Apparently, the Germans are beginning to wonder about my ability to control things down here."

Harm snorted, "That's what happens when you use your executive powers to divert German weapons convoys towards the camps of you friends in the resistance. When you're not busy arresting resistance members to keep the German's good graces."

"Anyway, we've figured out who is responsible for stealing the papers and we know that he's going to be here, at the Seahawk, tonight. As will Major Chegwidden."

"So you want to stage an arrest, here at the club?" Harm asked already knowing the answer.

"You will be well compensated for any lost business tonight." Webb assured him.

"I should hope so. Because I was prepared to insist on it."

Webb laughed and crushed his cigarette. "He will arrive here, my men will arrest him…"

"Let me guess," Harm interrupted, "There will be an accident on the way to the precent. Afterwards it'll be revealed that the exit visas have mysteriously disappeared."

Webb tapped his nose conspiratorially, "You said it. I didn't."

"Heh, right." Harm looked around the room. "What's all the noise about anyway? Nobody boldly steals a set of exit visas without something big going on."

Webb nodded appreciatively, "Perceptive as always, Harm. Does the name Mic Brumby mean anything to you?"

Harm stiffened slightly at the mention of the familiar name. "Mic Brumby?"

Webb was amused by Harm's action, "Why Harm, this is the first time I've ever seen you so impressed."

Harm laughed, "Well he's succeeded in impressing half the world."

Webb nodded, "Officially, it's my job to see that he doesn't manage to impress the other half. I'm under strict orders. Mic Brumby stays in Casablanca."

"What would give you the idea that I would even be inclined to help him escape."

"Because I think beneath that cynical exterior beats a sentimental heart. Besides, he's traveling with a lady."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Webb never got a chance to answer, as another French officer rushed up to him.

"Major Chegwidden is here."

Webb hastily excused himself and headed for the entrance.

Harm sighed and proceeded to watch the show unfold in front of him. Webb led Major Chegwidden and his group to a table, where they sat until a shifty looking man walked through the door. He headed for the bar and ordered a drink. He looked back at the entrance and saw the policemen standing at the door. He made a run for the back entrance, but was caught by the officers coming from the kitchen. He was led off kicking and screaming.

Harm leapt into action and climbed onto the stage waving his arms for the crowds attention. Webb nodded to him as he headed out the door with his prisoner.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Harm announced, "There has been an arrest. Please remain calm. Enjoy yourselves." He looked over at Bud, who was sitting at the piano. "Keep playing Bud." Bud did as he was told.

Harm took the stairs to his private office and sat down behind his desk. He poured himself a drink. It was going to be a long night.


	3. First Feature: Casablanca Ch2

**Ch. 2: A Song from the Past**

A couple entered the club. They were seated. The tall Australian man looked around.

"Our contact's late." He observed nervously.

The woman reached over to reassure him. The waiter arrived and asked them for their order. The woman scanned the smoky room while her companion placed their drink order. She caught sight of the piano player on stage. Instantly, she was hit by a wave of recognition. She'd seen him somewhere before.

"Who is that man?" She asked the waiter.

The waiter glanced in the direction she was pointing. "That's Bud, ma'am. He's our piano player."

Mac got up from the table. Mic looked up at her in askance. She placed a reassuring hand on his arm and made her way over to the piano.

Bud closed his eyes while his fingers ran skillfully over the keyboard. As the final chords of 'As Time Goes By' rang out, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and nearly gasped.

Seeing that he recognized her, Mac smiled, "Hello Bud."

"Hello ma'am." Bud replied, shyly as always.

"It's been a long time." Mac remarked.

"Yes ma'am. A lot of water under the bridge." Bud replied without inflection, already turning back to his piano; and wishing that she would go away. If Cmdr. Rabb saw her here, there would be hell to pay.

Bud began playing some ragtime hoping that she would see that he was busy and leave.

"Do you take requests?" Mac asked.

"Yes ma'am. What do you want to hear?"

"You know what I want to hear."

Bud abruptly slammed his hands down on the keyboard and spun around in his chair, a look, something akin to horror, on his face.

"Cmdr. Rabb has ordered me never to play that."

"Please Bud."

"If I do it's my head."

"Play it Bud. For old time's sake."

Bud sighed and turned back to his piano. Praying that the Commander wouldn't be around to hear it. He placed his fingers on the keys and began to play.

Harm had left his office and made his way back down to the bar. Slightly buzzed from all the bourbon, but nowhere near drunk, he grabbed an empty stool and sat down. On the other side of the club lounge he could see Bud talking to some woman, but he couldn't make out who she was.

Harm turned around and was about to order a drink, when his ears were assaulted by a familiar melody. He would have cried out in anguish had he not been so angry. Harm spun round so sharply, his neck nearly snapped. He located the sound. It was coming from Bud's piano. Harm got up from his seat and began stalking towards the piano, with murderous intent on his mind.

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Mac smiled as Bud began to play her song.

"Sing it Bud."

Bud sighed and began to sing, "From the halls of Montezuma…"

Harm came up behind Bud, shouting, "Bud I thought I told you never to play…"

The woman Harm had seen and instantly he found himself face to face with the one woman he never thought he would see again. He had always hoped he wouldn't and had always prayed he would.

"Mac."

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Sorry it took me so long continue the story. More is coming soon


	4. First Feature: Casablanca Ch3

**Ch. 3: Old and New Faces**

For both people, time seemed to stand still. Neither could move, as they looked each other in the eyes for the first time since that terrible day in December a year ago. Mac's eyes were as soft and friendly as they had always been, with a slight glimmer of hope at seeing this face from her past. Harm's eyes, however, held nothing but shock, anger and bitterness.

Mac smiled, "Hello Harm."

Harm nearly scoffed. 'After all that's happened, that's all she can say? 'Hello Harm?'

At that moment, Webb walked up, being followed by a tall man.

"Ah, I was just looking for you Harm." Webb pointed to the other man, "Harmon Rabb, Michael Brumby."

The two men shook hands.

"One hears a great deal about Harmon Rabb in Casablanca." Mic remarked, with a friendly though wary grin.

"And about Mic Brumby everywhere." Harm replied, his face never losing its sullen look.

Mic looked around with an appraising glance. "This is nice spot." He said,  
"I congratulate you."

Harm nodded, accepting the courtesy, "And I congratulate you."

"What for?" Mic asked.

"Your work."

Mic chuckled modestly, "Thank you, I try."

Harm scoffed at his modesty, "Everyone tries you succeed."

Mic turned to Mac "Where are my manners? May I present…"

Harm stuck out his hand. "Hello Sarah."

Mac shook it, "Hello Harm."

"You know each other?" Webb and Mic asked at the same time.

Harm and Mac looked at each other and then their companions. Neither was eager to answer the question.

Mic and Webb might have pushed further, had a waiter not arrived on the scene and handed a card to Mic.

"It came from a gentlemen at the door sir. He said that he would be unable to meet you."

Mic quickly skimmed the card and stuffed in the pocket of his jacket, before Webb could glimpse at it.

"It's time we were going." Mic said. He held out his arm for Mac who took it. Webb said his goodbyes and headed towards the bar. Harm said nothing as he watched the couple walk away, the same never-changing look on his face.

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Mic and Mac hailed a cab and made their way to their hotel.

"Who was that man with Harm?" Mac wanted to know.

"Clayton Webb, Chief Inspector of the Free French Police."

Mac shivered slightly, "Do you think he knows why we're here?" She asked.

Mic smiled ruefully, "I'd wager that every German and French officer stationed in this town, from the highest commander to the lowest clerk, knows why you and I are here."

At Mac's worried look he kissed her affectionately on the forehead, "Don't worry about it. This Harm is a very strange bloke. What kind of man is he?" Mic asked.

Mac turned away slightly, unable to meet his gaze. "I can't say, though I saw a great deal of him in Hong Kong."

Not wanting to go further, she leaned into Mic's embrace as they drove off. Mic held her close, watching the streets. Hoping that no one was following them.

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More coming soon


	5. First Feature: Casablanca Ch4

Ch. 4 What has Past is Prologue

When the Seahawk had closed for the night, Bud got his coat from the cloak room and headed for the exit until he caught sight of a light at the bar, in the otherwise darkened room. He as he came closer, he noticed Harm sitting at the bar drinking whiskey.

"Sir?"

No response.

"Sir?"

"Yeah Bud?" Harm shifted around on his stool and looked up at the piano player.

"Are you going to head home to sleep sir?" Bud asked.

"Not right now." Harm's tone was grim. Bud could smell the whiskey on his breath from a foot away. Bud took a glance at the bottle sitting next to Harm at the bar. It was more than half empty.

Harm turned back around to face the bar, as he reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. He swallowed the drink in one gulp and winced as it burned all the way from his throat to his stomach. He looked at the glass in his hand and angrily slammed it down on the bar. Bud jumped at the resounding bang that echoed through the darkened room.

Harm let out a rueful chuckle, "Of all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the world, and she had to walk into mine." He mused.

Bud, meanwhile, had made his way over to the piano and had begun to improvise a tune.

"What's that you're playing?" Harm asked.

Bud shrugged as he went on playing, "Just something of my own."

Harm turned back to face Bud. "Well stop it. You know what I want to hear."

"No I don't." Bud started getting nervous. The last thing he wanted to see was his boss like this. Playing the song would only make it worse.

"You played it for her. You can play it for me!" Harm snapped.

Worried about what would happen if he did play; but too afraid to see what would happened if he didn't, Bud struck the first chord of the Marine Corps Hymn. Harm poured another drink, but didn't take it. He sat back and listened to the song he'd not heard, nor wanted to hear in a long time. He let the music take him back to another place and time.

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It had been nearly a year ago, in Hong Kong. November 1941, a few weeks before Pearl Harbour. Harm had been hiding from the American authorities under the unwitting protection of the British authorities. He and an old shipmate, Bud Roberts had opened up a small bar that served rice wine and other things to Chinese labourers and British tourists. Bud played piano and Harm tended bar. Brits often complained about having to drink in such close proximity to the Chinese, but Harm didn't care. When he looked at a person, he never saw their skin colour, only the colour of their money.

Life was good and so was the money. Then she arrived on the scene. Harm would never forget the first he saw her walk into his bar. It was as if her eyes had captured his from across the room. He watched her saunter across the lounge from his post behind the bar. When she had taken a seat at the bar, he had moved quickly over to where she was sitting and asked her what she wanted. She ordered a soda with a twist.

"Soda with a twist?" Harm remarked, "Heh, we usually don't get to many orders for those around here."

"I'm kind of getting used to ordering it, myself." She replied, cryptically.

She had taken her drink and listened to Bud play piano. After a while she asked him to play the Marine Corps Hymn. An odd request to say the least, buy Bud was only too happy to oblige. After hearing the song she left.

She came back the next day ordering the same drink and asking for the same song. It happened again and again. Until Harm, upon seeing her arrive had her drink already made for her.

She drank and smiled gratefully.

"I never got your name." Harm said.

"Sarah Mackenzie, but everyone calls me Mac."

"Mac?"

Mac blushed, "It's an old nickname."

"Okay. Well my name is Harmon Rabb, but everybody calls me Harm. Except," He pointed to Bud, "Bud over here. Who calls me Commander, no matter how many times I've told him to stop."

"Commander?"

"We were in the navy together." Bud told her.

"You _were_ in the navy?"

"Yeah." Harm rubbed his neck self-consciously, "There was a…misunderstanding."

He decided to change the subject. "So what's with you and the Marine Corps Hymn? And I'm not just asking because I'm a navy man."

"Both my father and my uncle were in the Marines. It kind of runs in the family, so I heard that song a lot while I was growing up."

He asked her to join him for a night out exploring the city and she accepted. They continued to see each other ever night, after Harm closed the bar. They we very happy together, but every time he asked her about her past. She would change the subject. Or if he asked her why she has in Hong Kong, she simply replied that she was waiting for someone. Deep down, Harm was curious, but he was too happy with the way things were going to push Mac further.

Then came tragedy. On December 7th 1941, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour. What was worse, the Japanese were only a few short miles away from Hong Kong. If there was one thing Harm knew, it was when to cut and run. He sold his bar and everything that wasn't bolted down. What he couldn't sell he burned, including the rice wine.

And it was that in the afternoon of what Roosevelt would later call 'a day which will live in infamy', Harm, Bud and Mac were standing in the alley behind the bar formally Harm's, throwing liquor on a bonfire.

Harm took a swig from the bottle in his hand and winced.

"If I ever own another bar." He hissed, as the liquor burned his throat, "I'll never ever brew my own stuff ever again."

Bud tossed another bottle into the burning barrel in front of them.

"I here that the Japanese will be at the city gates before tomorrow."

Harm grinned wryly, "That's why we're getting out of here." He took another drink. "It may taste like battery acid, but it does take the sting out of being occupied." He turned to Mac and raised his bottle in toast, "Here's looking at you kid."

Mac smiled a sad smile, "With the whole world falling apart, we pick now to fall in love."

Harm bent down and kissed her.

"War doesn't last forever," He told her, "And then we've got the rest of our lives. The last train out Hong Kong leaves for Dehli at five o'clock. I'll pick you up at you hotel."

"No!" Mac jumped up. But she recovered quickly, "No, I'll meet you at the train station."

Harm noticed her reaction, but didn't push it. "All right, but it will be a madhouse. Everyone will be trying to get out of Hong Kong."

"Yes, Harm," Mac looked up at him with her soft expressive eyes, "I'll go with you. I just want you to know…" She shut her eyes, unable to continue. After a second she looked back up at him. "Kiss me." She told him, "Kiss me as if it were for the last time."

Confused by her request, but unable to deny her anything, Harm brought his lips to hers. He poured all of the love and passion he felt for this woman into it.

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The train station was in chaos. There were men, women and children, all desperately trying to get onto a train. Harm looked at his watch. It was quarter to five, and Mac was nowhere to be found. Bud came rushing up to him.

"There's no sign of her sir. She checked out of the hotel and no one's seen her since. She left a note at the desk for you." Bud handed Harm and envelope and went to check on the train.

Harm opened the envelope and pulled out the hand written letter it contained. His world shattered around him as he took in the words that sat upon the page.

Harm,

I can't go with you. I can't tell you why. Please try to understand, I love you.

Mac.

Each word was a dagger in Harm's heart. The din of the station faded in his ears until all he could hear was silence and all he could see was the letter in his shaking hand. So engrossed was he, that he didn't even hear the conductor call out that the train to Dehli was about to depart, or see Bud rush towards him.

"Commander, the train is leaving."

Harm didn't move.

"Commander, don't you hear me? The last train is leaving."

Harm was still too shell shocked to respond. Somewhere a whistle went off. Bud grabbed Harm and pulled him towards the train. The train had just started moving as the two men managed to board.

Harm watched the departing landscape go by. He looked down at the letter in his hand. In a rage he tore it up and tossed the scraps over the railing, as the train sped away from Hong Kong.

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Harm rubbed his tired eyes. Bud had long since gone home. Harm looked at his watch. It was two in the morning. The bottle next to him was nearly empty. Behind him Harm could hear footsteps. The sound got closer, until they were right behind him. Harm didn't bother to turn around. He knew exactly who it was.

Mac stood behind him. Not knowing what to do. For a while both simply remained still, saying nothing, until Mac could no longer stand the silence.

"I need to talk to you, Harm." She said.

Harm turned around, slowly, knowing that in his drunken state, to much movement would knock him over.

"Is that so? And why would I be inclined to listen?"

"Please." Mac's eyes begged him to talk with her.

Harm reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink.

"Why did you come to Casablanca?" He asked, "There are other places."

Mac looked at the ground. "I didn't know you were here." She whispered.

Harm laughed a bitter laugh, "You know, your voice hasn't changed. I can still hear. 'Harm, I love you. I'll go anywhere with you."

Tears began to for, in Mac's eyes, but Harm didn't care.

"Please Harm," She begged, "Don't do this. I understand how you feel."

"Ha!" Harm threw his head back ignoring the wave of nausea that came with it. "You think you know how I feel. Let me ask you, how many days were we together?"

"I didn't count." Mac replied quietly.

"Well I did. Every single one of them. I remember the last one. Ended with a man standing in a train station with a comical look on his face, and waking up every morning with a pain in his back, like someone had stuck a knife there."

Mac looked ashamed. "I know, but you have to understand…"

Harm jumped up from his stool, with anger blazing in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me just who it was that you left me for? Was it Brumby, or was there someone in between?" Harm sneered, "Or aren't you the kind of girl that tells?"

At that moment, whatever was keeping Mac's emotions in check snapped. The tears that she had been holding back started to fall. Without a word or even a backward glance she turned and walked out the door. Harm watched her leave and then turned back to the bar. He picked up the whiskey bottle and, with a cry of fury, threw it against the wall, shattering it. He collapsed back into his stool and cradled his head in his hands.

'What am I going to do?'


	6. First Feature: Casablanca Ch5

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Author's note: A question has come up that I want to answer. Yes there will be more than one movie. Additionally Sorry for making Chegwidden a nazi, I just couldn't think of anyone else to fill the role.

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Inspector Webb looked over the reports on his desk. Six new arrests had been made last night, among them the man who was arrested at the Seahawk. As Harm had predicted, the man been killed in an "accident" on the way to the local constabulary. The exit visas had mysteriously disappeared. And they would never be found, until it was too late.

Webb patted his breast pocket. No, the visas would never be found. After all, no one, not even Major Chegwidden, special emissary to the Third Reich, had the authority to search a chief inspector of the Free French Police.

As if on cue, the door to Webb's office swung open and Major Chegwidden stalked in.

"Any word on Brumby," he asked.

Webb neither saluted nor got up from his desk, he simply looked at his watch.

"I have tasked my men with bringing him in. He will receive the standard…warning that we give all people of his type."

This did nothing to change Chegwidden's harsh demeanor, "Can these men be trusted?"

Webb looked up from his desk, and smiled a fake smile. "I trust them as much as I trust you, Herr Chegwidden."

Chegwidden grunted.

Footsteps could be heard, coming from down the hallway. Mic Brumby came in through the door, followed by two policemen.

"I don't suppose you'd mind telling me why I've been dragged here?" Brumby asked, indignation present with every word he spoke.

Chegwidden stretched to his full height and glared at Brumby. "Herr Brumby, you are an escaped prisoner of the Reich. You were lucky enough to make it to Casablanca. It is my job to make sure that you _stay_ in Casablanca. As you know it is only possible to leave if one has an exit visa, which must be personally signed by Inspector Webb here." Chegwidden turned to Webb. "Is it possible that this man will receive an exit visa."

Webb shook his head.

Brumby smiled smugly and shrugged, "Perhaps I'll like it in Casablanca."

Chegwidden chuckled, "Don't unpack just yet. You may be here in Casablanca indefinitely, or you could be on a plane to Lisbon tomorrow. On one condition."

Brumby sneered, "Which is?"

"You know the names of every resistance leader in every occupied territory. Oslo, Paris, Prague…"

"Rome, Berlin," Brumby added, still sneering.

"If you were to give us those names, you would find yourself with an exit visa by tomorrow."

Brumby laughed, "You held me in Dachau for several months. If I didn't tell you then, I'm not telling you now." He turned, "So unless there's anything else."

He then left without waiting for an answer.

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Harm had woken up with a hangover to end all hangovers. After he had applied one of his famous cures, which didn't work, he decided to clear his head by taking a walk through the market.

The market was alive with the sights and smells of trade. Little else could be heard over the shouts of peddlers selling their wares. Harm looked around at the various stalls, but didn't buy anything. He never did.

He had just managed to escape an Arab trying to sell him, what he claimed to be a thousand year old hand-woven Persian rug-though Harm didn't even have to look at it to know that it was probably a machine-woven rug, most likely made last week-when Harm caught sight of her.

Harm could see Mac, a few feet away, haggling with a vendor over the price of some fabric. Now that he was sober and his headache had begun to fade, he decided to try again. He came up behind her while she continued to haggle.

He leaned in, "You're being cheated." He whispered in her ear.

Mac, for her credit, did not turn around. She quickly agreed on a price, collected her goods and started to walk away. Harm gave chase.

"I'd like to apologize for last night," he called after her, "I wasn't exactly in any condition to be receiving visitors."

"It doesn't matter." Mac threw over he shoulder, all the while still walking.

Harm sped up to meet her pace until they were walking shoulder to shoulder.

"Why did you come back?" Harm wanted to know, "To tell me why you didn't meet the train?"

"Yes." Mac let out with a sigh.

"Well, you can tell me now. Now that I'm reasonably sober." Harm coaxed.

Mac shook her head, letting out a dry chuckle, "No I don't think so."

Harm looked at her in askance, "Why not? I got stuck with the train ticket. I think I have a right to know."

Mac sighed, "You're not the man I knew in Hong Kong. The Harm I knew in Hong Kong would never have looked at me with such hatred in his eyes. I'm leaving Casablanca soon anyway. If we leave it at this, then we'll remember Casablanca and not last night."

With that she sped up again.

"Why?" Harm called after her, "Was because you didn't think you could take it? Being on the run all the time?"

Mac turned sharply with sad hollow look in her eyes. "No," she shook her head sadly, "Harm…Mic is my husband. I am and always have been married." With one last sad look she turned and walked away.

Harm let out the breath he did know he had been holding, "Well I'll be damned." He muttered to himself.


	7. First Feature: Casablanca Ch6

Later in the evening, after the club had been closed up for the night, Harm made his way up the stairs to his apartment. When he reached the door, he put his key into the lock and opened the door. He was surprised to find the lights on. He stepped warily into the apartment and looked around. Seeing no one, he reached over and opened the drawer of a small table beside the door. He withdrew a snub-nosed pistol and crept toward the living room. He hugged the wall next to the doorway, and cocked his pistol.

He pushed himself of the wall and launched through the doorway into the living room, pointing his pistol. At the sight of Mac in an armchair, he nearly dropped his gun in surprise and in horror of the realization that he had nearly shot her.

"How did you get in?" He demanded softly.

Mac got up from her seat, "I came in through the window."

"Well what are you here for?" Harm set his gun down on a coffee table, "If you have anymore information about your life that think needs to be divulged, be warned I don't think I have the strength to take anymore of them."

Mac stepped slowly towards him, a lost look on her face. "I don't know why I'm here."

Harm shook his head, "It's a little late for games. On top of that, I've grown tired of them, so if you…"

He was cut off as Mac turned sharply and walked towards the window. "Harm, I tried to stay away. If only you know what I went through, having to leave you." Her shoulders started shaking as she began to sob, "I though I'd never see you again. If only you knew how much I loved you. How much I still love you!"

In two quick strides, Harm was at her side. He grabbed Mac by the arm and turned her around, pulling her to him. In one swift motion, his lips were on hers. The two lovers found themselves instantly at home, as if they had never been apart.

Without breaking contact, Harm slowly started maneuvering Mac towards the bedroom.

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Mac lay across Harm's bare chest sighing contentedly. Harm held his hand on her shoulder.

"What are we going to do about this?" He asked.

Mac shook her head, "I don't know."

"What are we going to do about Mic?"

"I don't know. I just know I'll never have the strength to leave you again." Mac pushed herself up and looked Harm in the eye. "You have to help him Harm. Get him his exit visa. He'll leave Casablanca and continue his cause somewhere else. Then we'll be free to live together."

Harm nodded, smiling his first genuine smile since Hong Kong.

"All right, I'll see what I can do."

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Mac left soon after, leaving Harm to a sleepless night. The next night, Harm waited until Mic arrived at the club. He was alone this evening. He had left Mac to go to a meeting of the local chapter of the resistance. Once the meeting broke up, he headed for the club to meet with her. Harm watched him from his seat at the bar, as he made his way from the entrance to a table. Harm picked up his cigar from the ashtray next to him and walked over to the table, where Mic sat staring at his hands.

"I hear that you're considering leaving our sunny little vacation spot." He said.

Mic looked up from the table. "Yes," he said, "Although, the Gestapo and the French Police seem bound and determined to keep me here."

Harm let out a puff of cigar smoke and sat down. "What if I told you that I could get you passage to Spain or some other neutral territory."

At this Mic sat up straight, "I'd say you were either lying or a German spy."

Harm chuckled dryly, "I'm not a German spy, I'm not lying and I can definitely get you out of this backwater."

"How?" Mic was incredulous, "The only…" He stopped speaking as he saw Major Chegwidden and a number of German officers enter and walk over to the bar. Once he was sure they weren't looking in his direction he continued. "This country is like a steel trap, the only way to get through is…"

"With an exit visa signed by Inspector Webb of the Free French Police. And I just so happen to be in possession of an exit visa."

Mic's face fell. "Only one?"

"Yes one. Why, is that a problem."

Mic's face quickly became a mask of stoicism, "No, one will be fine."

Harm smiled inwardly, he had taken the bait. He knew that Mic couldn't resist a chance to get away, even if it meant sacrificing Mac.

"Name your price." Mic said.

"Ten thousand Francs."

Mic nodded, "I can lay hands on that much. When can I get the visa?"

"I don't have it with me," He said, " But I can get it to you tonight."

Mic was about to reply when all of a sudden, the German officers began singing a German war song. It was loud enough to be heard from the other end of the club. Mic scowled in fury. He sprang up from his chair and made several quick angry strides over to the orchestra on stage.

"Play the Marseillaise." He commanded.

The musicians looked at him in confusion.

"Play it!" Mic shouted.

The musicians did as they were told and began to play the French National Anthem, which had become the anthem of the resistance movement. Mic sang out in bright and polished baritone. This inspired the rest of the club patrons, all of them nationals of German subjugated countries, to join in.

Chegwidden slammed his schnapps down on the table and conducted the other officers, attempting to drown out this unwelcome competition. But the Germans were outnumbered and their song was quickly overpowered by the French, Czechs, Romanians, Dutch, Swedes, and Yugoslavians whose fierce patriotism had been awakened.

When the song was over, all the patrons began shouting, "Viva la France! Viva la democracie!"

A furious Major Chewidden led his men out of the now hostile club. Harm watched all of this with a feeling of amazement that he was unused to experiencing. It was rather incredible to watch a man in his element such as Brumby was now. As the German officers left, Mic let out a sigh of relief and came back to sit at the table with Harm.

"When can you get the exit visa to me?" He asked.

"There's a plane leaving at Midnight," Harm replied, "Come to my apartment an hour before. After that I'll take you to the airport and I can get you on the plane."

"It's not for me." Mic replied, "It's for Sarah. If both of us can't get out of the country, I'll be damned sure that she can. I'll bring her over at eleven."

Harm was shocked. He had misjudged Mic. He had thought that Mic cared more about the cause than he did Mac. Now that the opposite had turned out to be true, he had to rethink his plan.

Mic got up from his seat and started to leave, when he suddenly turned on his heel.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked. "You could just as easily use this visa yourself."

Harm shrugged, "A gift for your wife."

Mic nodded and left.

Once Harm was sure that Mic had left he got up from his seat and made his way over to the table sitting in the far corner of the club, where Webb-who had been watching the scene with the German officers with quiet amusement-was sitting.

Without preamble, Harm sat down and asked, "What will you give me if I give up Mic Brumby to you?"


	8. First Feature: Casablanca Ch7

Author's note: Sorry it took so long. Here's the final part of Casablanca.

Webb gave Harm a confused look. "What?"

Harm was beginning to feel like Judas Iscariot. "Brumby is looking for a set of exit visas. I told him that I had one."

"But you don't have one." Webb pointed out.

"But I know that you have two." Harm replied. "If you were to catch Brumby in the act of trying to escape, then you would be set. He's coming to my apartment at eleven o'clock. Come by yourself and you can arrest him then. All I want in return are those two exit visas."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, one for me and one for Sarah Mackenzie."

For a moment, Webb was shocked, then he smiled a sly smile, "Well, well, well."

Harm rolled his eyes, "Just shut up and be ready."

Webb nodded and left chuckling and smiling to himself. Once he had gone Harm walked over to Bud, who was sitting at the piano.

"Have the car ready in front of my apartment at eleven o'clock Bud."

"Are we going somewhere sir?" Bud asked.

Harm didn't answer as he went back to his stool at the bar.

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Webb arrived at quarter to eleven. Harm quickly ushered him in.

"So what's the plan?" Webb asked.

"Do you have the visas?" Harm asked.

Webb reached into the front pocket of his uniform and produced the valuable papers.

"I need one of them to complete the charade." Harm told him.

Webb appeared uneasy at first, but then nodded, handing Harm one of the visas. Harm took it and stuck it in his own pocket.

"In a few minutes, Brumby and his wife will arrive. I'll meet them in front of the apartment and lead them inside, where you'll be waiting to make the arrest."

Webb nodded. "I'll be ready." He walked over to a chair and sat down. He smiled a cold smile, "You know it's interesting."

"What's that?"

"That even you are willing to abandon all values over a woman. Puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"

"Just be ready." Harm replied harshly as he made his way out the door.

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Brumby and Mac arrived five minutes early to find Harm smoking under the light of a street lamp.

"Have you got the exit visa?" Mic asked anxiously.

Harm nodded, removing it from his pocket, and quickly replacing it. "Have you got the money?"

Mic nodded and held up a small attache case.

Harm allowed a slight grin, "I've also got tickets, for the plane, ready in my apartment. We'll finalize the deal there. It's not safe to talk here."

Harm lead them quickly up the staircase to his front door. He unlocked it and ushered them in. Once he had shut the door, he switched the lights on.

Webb sat in the living room chair, facing the door. Gun in hand and a cigarette clenched between his lips, which were curled up into a sneer. He got up from his seat and walked into the foyer.

"Mic Brumby, you're under arrest."

Mic cast a look at Harm that was beyond fury. Mac's expression was one of shock. Webb gestured with the gun.

"Over there by the wall." He said.

Slowly, the couple made their way over to the wall and stood facing it.

"Are you surprised by my friend Harm?" He asked, gloating slightly, "The answer is simple. It seems that love has triumphed over virtue."

Ice water began to flow through Mac's veins. It was all going wrong. This was not what she wanted.

The silence in the room was breached by the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Not so fast Webb. No one's going to be arrested. Not for a while yet. Now drop it." Harm commanded.

Webb did as he was told. Slowly, he started to turn around. Harm stood in front of him, holding his snub nosed pistol.

"I want the other visa." He said.

Webb reached into his pocket and removed the second visa, handing it to Harm.

Mac stepped forward. "Harm, what are you doing?"

Harm didn't bother turning around. "Sarah, if you want to get out of this country alive, I suggest you shut up and do what I say. That goes for you too Mic. Now lets get out of here. Webb, you go first."

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As the group exited the apartment building, and ventured into the street, where Bud was waiting with the car, Harm draped his coat over his arm to conceal the gun. Seeing them coming, Bud opened the door and ushered them into the back. Harm got in the passenger seat.

"Where to, sir?" Bud asked as he took his place behind the wheel.

"The airport." Harm replied.

Bud's brow furrowed in incomprehension, but did what he was told, and placed his foot on the accelerator. As the car began to speed away, Harm turned in his seat to keep the concealed gun trained on Webb, who sat scowling in sullen silence. Next to him, Brumby and Mac exchanged glances. Only one question on both their minds: what was Harm up to?

The ride continued in tense quiet, until the car pulled up to the runway at Casablanca airport.

Harm turned to Bud, saying, "Wait here. He turned to Webb and gestured with his gun, growling "Get out!"

Stone faced, Webb did as he was told, only to be followed by Brumby and Mac. The airport was quiet. A short distance away, a plane bound for Lisbon, Portugal sat on the runway. Harm climbed out of the car and told Mic, "You'd better get on board."

Mic hesitated, looking at his wife, then at Harm, then at Webb, and back at Mac again. With a solemn look he nodded and moved towards Mac.

"I'll see you soon." He said, as he leaned down to kiss her. Then he turned and rushed towards the plane.

Harm reached into his pocket, and, his gun ever aimed at Webb's heart, tossed the visas to him. "Sign them," he ordered. "They'll look more official that way."

Begrudgingly, Webb removed a pen from his coat pocket and signed them.

"And the name to be filled in," Harm whispered, "is Mr. and Mrs. Mic Brumby."

Webb froze and looked up at Harm at the same time as Mac. Identical looks of shock plastered on their faces.

"Why my name?" Mac wanted to know.

"Because, you're getting on that plane." Harm replied, momentarily forgetting about Webb and turning to face her.

"What about you?" She asked.

"I'm staying here."

Tears began to form in Mac's eyes. "Why? Last night…"

"Last night we said a lot of things," Harm interrupted, "I've done a lot of thinking since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Mic, where you belong."

"But…but" Mac began to protest in stammers.

Harm grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. "You've got to listen to me. You've got nothing to look forward to here with me. Inside both of us, we know that you belong with Mic. You're a part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If you don't get on that plane now, you'll regret it."

Mac shook her head, tears streaming down her face, "No." She said.

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life." Harm continued.

"But what about us?"

"We'll always have Hong Kong. We're both headed for places where neither can follow. I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." He wiped her tears away, and kissed her softly, one last time.

"Here's looking at you kid." He said. With that he handed the letters of transit to her and, letting her go, backed away. Still crying, she turned and headed towards the plane. She paused, and turned back to him.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Harm stood motionless, watching her board. He didn't move away, until the plane had taken-off and was headed off into the night sky.

Webb walked over with a smug smile on his face. "Well, it seems you're not only sentimental, you're also a patriot."

Harm shrugged, stuffing his gun into his pocket. "Now seemed like a good time to start."

The two men began to make their way back to the car where Bud was waiting.

"It might be a good idea to get out of Casablanca for a while." Webb stated. "I can make arrangements for your travel. And the ten thousand Francs should pay our expenses."

Harm turned his head sharply. "_Our_ expenses?"

Webb grinned, and nodded, "Uh huh."

Harm chuckled, "Clay, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The end...for now.

More to come soon.


End file.
